


Stay With Me

by kangaroar



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Crushes, Cute, Cutesy, Drabble, Drunken Confessions, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, Romance, Spideypool - Freeform, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 19:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7904032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangaroar/pseuds/kangaroar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there was one thing that Peter had learned from this whole mess, it was that he does stupid things when he's drunk. </p><p> </p><p>Apparently, that includes kissing Deadpool and confessing his love for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Disgustingly fluffy. Just warning you <3

When Peter woke up that morning he felt like his brain had been turned inside out and filled with cotton balls. Later, he would come to realize that he was having the worst hangover of his life, but he was too preoccupied with trying to wrench his disheveled, ripped mask off of his bruised and scratched chin. Rolling over, he stared blearily at the bedside table, waiting for the objects on it to swim into focus. That was when he realized two things:

One, that it wasn’t morning. In fact, it was 3 in the afternoon. Where was Aunt May to wake him up?

Two, that it wasn’t his clock. He didn’t have a digital clock, nor was his bedside table strewn with various takeout containers from fast food places and an impressive assembly of articles of clothing. Meaning, this wasn’t his room. Or his house.

Peter’s eyes widened and he scrambled for his phone, nearly falling off the side of the bed before realizing that he was still wearing his suit and nearly ripping the cloth in half with the fervency of how he grabbed his phone from the pocket. There were sixteen missed calls and four text messages, to which he quickly responded that he was okay with no regard for spelling or grammatical mistakes. He groaned, running his hand over his face and into his hair.

Flopping back down onto his pillow, he covered his face in both hands. He was _not_ looking forward to the inevitable lecture from his aunt, who was still incredibly overprotective of him despite Peter being nearly 22. He took a deep breath—which smelled suspiciously of Taco Bell—and rolled onto his side.

Realization number three: Deadpool was staring straight at Peter’s naked face.

Peter did what any other man in this situation would: he screamed. Loudly. Deadpool actually jumped from the sheer decibel level of the scream, hands instinctively poised at his gun holsters.

“Peter, _be quiet!_ ” Deadpool hissed, hands now anxiously hovering over Peter’s shoulders as if he was afraid to touch him. “You’re going to wake up the entire floor!”

Peter clasped a hand to his mouth and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. When he was calm enough to speak coherently, he opened his eyes.

“What the fuck happened?”

“Well, we took care of some weirdo in the alleyway behind my apartment who was cornering a couple of chicks, and then he fucking turned into this weird ass shadowy thing and he beat you up pretty bad, but I fixed you right up with some Carebear waterproof band-aids and a nice bottle of whiskey!”

Peter’s headache was telling him that this was all plausibly true. “Why am I here?”

“Well I wasn’t just going to leave you at the bar! You pretty much passed out, so I carried you back to my place, and I wasn’t really sure if you’d passed out because of that big ass scrape on your chest, or if you were just really drunk, so I put some cold towels on your head and you woke up and we Netflix-ed and chilled. Then you fell asleep again, so I carried you to my bed because I was wayyy too tired to carry you back to your house. Not that I know where that is.”

“Did we…do anything?”

“No.” Deadpool pouted. “I wish we did,” he muttered. Peter rolled his eyes.

“Do I look like I’ve been drinking?”

“Yes you do. You smell like it, too.”

“Oh, fuck me.” Peter put his head in his hands.

“I fucking tried,” Deadpool said under his breath. “You almost said yes, too.”

Peter shot up, eyes widening. “Wait, wait, wait. So how far did we go, exactly?”

“You took off your shirt for me and we made out.” Deadpool made kissy noises through his mask. “Things got pretty hot and heavy, but I never took your pants or your mask off.”

It came crashing back down on Peter that he wasn’t wearing his mask. Deadpool seemed to realize that Peter was about to have another screaming fit, so he reassured him that he wouldn’t tell anyone and that he wouldn’t reveal his identity ever.

“Look! To make it even!” Deadpool pointed to his face and pulled off his own mask. Peter was too preoccupied with how much trouble he was going to be in to really mind or react to the constantly shifting scars and sores across Deadpool’s otherwise handsome face.

Deadpool patted Peter on the head and got up, circling around the other side of the bed to make his way to the door.

“I’ll get you some aspirin and some ice water.”

“No, I really think I should go, Aunt May’s going to kill me if I don’t.”

Deadpool closed the door behind him and leaned on it, looking at Peter sternly. “I’m not going to let you leave in this state. You look awful. Stay for a little bit longer. Daddy will fix you right up,” he said with a wink.

As much as Peter hated to admit it, Deadpool was right for once. He put his head on his pillow again, wincing at the sudden flare of his headache.

When Deadpool came back, he handed Peter the water and pills and then proceeded to strip down to black tank top and boxers. Peter squeaked and averted his eyes, blushing wildly as Deadpool got back in bed with him.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Relax, I’m not going to do anything. Then again, I’m not passing up an opportunity to lie in bed with the prettiest man I’ve ever seen looking like we just had the kinkiest sex in the world.”

With Peter’s disheveled hair and the scratches down his back and shoulders, there really wasn’t a lot to argue for in his favor. He downed the pills and the water in one go and buried his head under the covers. Unlike the rest of Deadpool’s apartment, it smelled like fresh laundry detergent and mint rather than Mexican food. It kind of gave Peter butterflies.

“So, about the kinky sex—“

“No, Deadpool.”

Deadpool didn’t say anything, but Peter felt a shift in the mattress and the rustling of the covers as they were lifted off of his head. He barely had time to react before he was pulled into a tight hug, both soft and sweet and hard and muscular. Peter pushed on Deadpool’s chest and loosened the hug, only to find Deadpool with his mask removed staring straight into Peter’s eyes.

The way Deadpool’s warm brown eyes looked at him was anything but platonic. Deadpool looked at Peter like he was the universe and Peter was the key to it. It gave Peter another rush of butterflies, but also prompted him to ask another question.

“So, judging by what’s happening right now, I feel like you’re not telling me the whole story of last night.”

Deadpool didn’t break his gaze. “Well, I lied about you not taking your mask off. You did. And you took mine off, too. And you called me Wade. No one calls me Wade.”

The words strung a note of sudden melancholy in Peter. He wanted to hug Deadpool back.

“It was probably the alcohol in me. I drank even more than you did, believe it or not. I told you I liked you. You told me you liked me too. I told you I loved you. You kissed me.”

Peter turned red all the way up to his ears and told himself that he would never drink ever again. He practically wept in shame.

“Obviously, I kissed you back. I’d be dumb not to.” Deadpool grinned, breaking the poignancy of the moment for a split second. “All these thoughts were running through my head, like, is this really happening? Up until this point, I thought you hated me. I thought you just tolerated me.” He looked up reminiscently, almost dreamily. He said it all with a sincerity that Peter had never heard before.

“I lied about things getting hot and heavy. They didn’t. We just kissed for a while. I, uh—“ Deadpool looked embarrassed all of a sudden. “I haven’t really had feelings for people before, so it was easier to pretend that I just liked you for your cute ass.”

Peter rolled his eyes. Deadpool laughed.

“So, yeah. We just kissed. I kissed you until you fell asleep, which is something I never thought I’d say. I kissed Spider-Man!”

Peter smiled. He couldn’t help it. “I thought you were just lusting after me.”

“Well, so did I. I guess something clicked when I drank that fourteenth shot.” Deadpool rubbed the back of his head. “Well, I dunno. I remember watching you save people and doing it so selflessly. I didn’t understand why someone would be so idiotic as to save other peoples’ lives rather than just saving himself, you know? But then I’d hear all these things about how Spider-Man was everyone’s hero, and I wanted that for me. Which led me to realize that he’s my hero, too. Spider-Man is my hero.”

Peter was still drunk. He knew it because he lurched forward and kissed Deadpool on the lips before he could say anything else. But he wasn’t, really.

They kissed for a while. Peter wasn’t good with words and neither was Deadpool. But when they kissed, they didn’t need to use words.

They were rudely interrupted by Peter’s phone buzzing with a phone call from Aunt May. Peter reassured her that he was safe and that he was at a friend’s house, being well taken care of. He said that he’d be back as soon as he felt good enough to walk, which he did, but Aunt May didn’t need to know that.

He put his phone away and wrapped his arms back around Deadpool’s waist, listening to his slow, powerful heartbeat and the languorous rises and falls of his chest.

After a few minutes, Peter pulled away to Deadpool’s dismay. He stood up and stretched, yawning and checking the time. He turned to Deadpool.

“I should probably go, Wade.”

Deadpool looked back at him, the warm afternoon sun casting light and the shadow of Deadpool’s window panels on his face and chest in an almost ethereal glow.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, holding his hand out for Peter.

So Peter stayed.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://flexecutioner.tumblr.com/) here! Let me know if you guys want a (smutty) part two!


End file.
